


But... Butts!

by crossroadswrite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Humor, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, POV Alternating, Pack Father Derek Hale, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Besides there’s no way everyone caught us. We don’t have that much sex,” Stiles sniffs.</p><p>“Oh, honey.”</p><p>(OR: 5 times Erica wasn't the one catching Derek and Stiles having the sex and 1 time she sort of was.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	But... Butts!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lba3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/gifts).



**ZERO:** _Middle Child Syndrome and How to Fight Favoritism With Guilt Tripping_

“Why is Erica pouting?” Stiles asks, passing by with warm tea for Derek, because Derek likes being warm and cuddly even if he won’t admit to it, the big doofus. It would probably ruin his ‘I’M THE ALPHA’ aesthetic or something.

“Because you love the others more than you love _me_!” she growls.

Stiles and Derek exchange a _look_.

“Erica, you know that’s not true,” Stiles says, sitting down next to her carefully.

“If that’s not true,” she starts, pout still on full force, “then why don’t you let me watch you have sex.”

Derek spits his tea all over the place; Stiles chokes on his own spit.

“You let all the others watch!” she cries out indignantly.

“We really don’t,” Stiles gets out, still wheezing.

“You do! They’ve all complained they caught you at it.”

“And you think we do in on purpose?” Derek lifts a clearly unimpressed eyebrow, dabbing at his spilled tea with a cloth.

Erica pouts in return.

“Erica, I can assure you, all the times that happened, was because _someone_ ,” he looks pointedly at Derek, “couldn’t keep their werewolf senses sharp.”

“Well, excuse me if I was otherwise preoccupied.”

Erica opens her mouth.

“No.” Derek immediately cuts her off.

“Besides there’s no way _everyone_ caught us. We don’t have that much sex,” Stiles sniffs.

“Oh, _honey_.”

 

 

 **ONE:** _If There Isn’t a Lock, You Don’t Need to Knock. Right? Right?!_

“We could,” Allison whispers, eyelashes touching her cheeks delicately when she blinks. She’s biting her lip tantalizingly like she knows they _can’t_ but she really wants to.

“Your dad would kill me,” Scott tries to reason.

Allison pouts and starts toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Or we can. We definitely can.”

She grins brilliantly at him and starts tugging him away, towards Scott’s mom’s car. Where they’re going to have sex. Aw yeah they are.

“Wait, wait. I have to get my condoms. I left them at Derek’s.”

“Why are you leaving condoms at Derek’s?”

He shrugs, “He thought I was doing drugs and made me empty my pockets.”

Allison snorts, “He’s such a _Dad_.”

“Right,” he rolls his eyes, pecks her on the lips real quick, “Just wait here. I’ll be a second.”

Scott bounds up the stairs to Derek’s apartment and throws the sliding door open, making a mental note to tell Derek to get a goddamn lock already. It’s like he likes to be hyperaware of everything 24/7.

He steps in the loft, inhales because that’s what people _do_ and immediately chokes on his spit and gags.

He shouldn’t look but it’s almost like he _has to_. His brain needs visual confirmation and Scott regrets all of his life choices as soon as he does.

“What are you doing?” he screeches.

Derek and Stiles fall off the bed with a startle and a loud moan.

Scott slaps a hand over his eyes.

“You were fucking my best friend,” he whines, “with your _dick_!”

He can hear Stiles muttering for Derek to get off and Derek harshly whispering back that he was _trying to_.

Why is he still here. Why is this his life.

Is this because he accidentally made Stiles break his ankle in second grade because _that was an accident and he had apologized_.

“Yes, Scott. That is normally how fucking goes between two guys.”

“Don’t tell me that!”

“Scott, buddy, I love you but I was having a really _really-“_

Scott is taking Allison and moving to France. Allison will like it there and there won’t be any chance for this to happen again. There are no best friends fucking your shithead older brother figure in France. He’s pretty sure.

“-good time and I’d like to keep having one so what do you want.”

“Is his dick still in you. I don’t think I can have a conversation while you’re getting dicked.”

“Do you really want an answer to that.”

France is nice this time of year and everything.

“Condoms,” he mumbles, “Allison wants to have sex in the-“

“Whoa, buddy TMI.”

“I literally just saw my Alpha dicking you _. With his dick.”_

Something hits him in the chest and Scott scrambles for it. His condoms. Oh god.

“There’s two missing. Why are there two missing?”

“Alpha cum and fangs,” Stiles answers casually.

“I don’t wanna know these things about Derek.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Derek starts, “is gonna resume getting off in about thirty seconds. You have that much to get out of here.”

Scott is out of there as fast as he can. He thinks he breaks his record of how fast he can go. Sadly he’s not out of there fast enough not to hear his best friend moaning like he’s in a bad porno.

 

 

 **TWO:** _Bop It, Smack It, Twist It, Tap It, Lick It, Childhood Trauma_

“Wait, wait,” Isaac calls out to the others, “I need another scarf.”

“Isaac, hon, we’re going _clubbing_ , you don’t need a scarf _at all_ ,” Lydia informs him kindly.

He doesn’t even deign that with an answer. Just turns tail and climbs the stairs back up to Derek’s loft. Well, one of them. Derek finally decided to start renovating the apartments in the run down building he bought like his very own Healing Journey of Zen With Hammers and Power Drills.

That’s the name Stiles gave it, at least.

Isaac’s pretty sure he’s the only one that could actually get away with saying it without getting cuffed upside the head.

He slides the door of the loft on the top floor open, making a note to tell Derek to find a lock for it already. If this is gonna be a respectful building it can’t just be let like that.

Anyone could just walk in at any time.

On the upside Isaac doesn’t have to use a key and Derek doesn’t have to angst over the proper way to give Stiles a key without also asking him to stay forever and bear his weird werewolf buttbabies.

He’s so distracted by the horror of _actual_ buttbabies, that he doesn’t even register it until a low, desperate moan rings out across the open floor.

Isaac very, very carefully turns and yup. There’s his Alpha. With his ass in the air and getting a rim job that’s probably making him see god if the sounds he’s making are anything to go by.

“We didn’t even leave the driveway,” he yells, “how are you already naked?!”

Stiles flails off the bed, somehow slapping Derek on his way down and _that’s not something Isaac needed to see_.

Those hands bake him cookies and help him choose scarfs. They should not be smacking asses.

“Really, Derek. How did you not hear him?”

Derek turns and Isaac slaps a hand over his eyes haphazardly.

“I was a little distracted,” he snarks.

“I thought you were gonna help him with the plumbing on the- ohgod it was an euphemism.”

Isaac might cry a little.

“You okay? You look like you just saw your parents having sex.”

“That’s because I just _saw my parents having sex_.”

“I’m not your mother,” Stiles argues.

“You’re totally my mother.”

“I am not-“

“You pet my hair when I’m sad. You take me shopping. You tell Derek off when he’s being unreasonable, you’re frequently right. You’re everyone’s mother.”

Isaac’s holding his breath now. It just seems like a good idea.

“I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Isaac,” Derek growls, “what did you forget?”

“My scarf. I wanted another scarf. But I don’t think I need one. I think I’m going.”

“Why you’re still here is a wonder.”

Isaac turns tail and rushes out the door, “You both owe me a toy for the trauma you’ve caused me,” he shouts, “that’s how parenting works!”

He forgoes the stairs and jumps out the window the floor below.

“I thought you were getting a scarf.”

Isaac ducks inside the car and shakes his head, “I wanna get _drunk_.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

 

 **THREE:** _When I Said I Wanted to Go See the Pony Riding Show This is Not What I Meant_

Allison sneakily walks in Derek’s apartment building, climbing the stairs to the second floor and trying the lock of apartment 2B.

That’s the apartment Derek’s fixing up for Scott. He’s decided each member of the pack that’s staying in Beacon Hills gets his own apartment because he’s a little warm marshmallow overprotective _dad_ that just doesn’t want anyone too far from his sight.

The walls are pretty thick here, thick enough that werewolves can’t hear from apartment to apartment.

Allison likes it, it’s looking up

The apartment doesn’t open, so she decides to climb up to the top floor where Derek’s making the pack lounge room. Scott told her he’d get here and then ask Derek for the key so they could have some _alone time_.

Scott’s always late for things though, even this, so she’ll just ask Derek for the key and maybe do something nice for when Scott arrives. She _is_ wearing her nice lingerie.

Allison doesn’t knock on the door because _no one knocks on the door_. Not even the villains. Or the pizza delivery boy that’s brave enough to come all the way to the abandoned industrial area.

He just waltzes in, drops off the pizza and attempts to flirt with as many people as possible on his way out.

That’s her excuse for not knocking.

Which is a mistake.

She knew is theory that Stiles and Derek were having sex, doing their weird dating thing that involved too much eyebrow game for Allison to really understand what was going on. But that certainly didn’t prepare her for the _hard physical evidence_ (ah).

Nothing prepares her to walk in and see Stiles riding Derek’s dick. On the couch.

“Really guys? We _eat_ in that couch,” she tells them, reminding herself a second too late that common decency is a thing.

She quickly averts her eyes.

“You said you got a lock for that,” Stiles says and _thankfully_ the sound of skin on skin has stopped. And the moaning. Thank god for that, she feels like she walked in on her close relatives having dick time.

“I didn’t say I put it in.”

“Well you’re putting _it_ in someth-“

“Stop,” she begs, “please. Just. I want the keys to 2B, not to witness bad porno puns.”

She hears Stiles tsk, “This is why I like Erica better, you know. She appreciates my porno puns.”

“Stiles shut up,” Derek grumbles and he must shift around. Allison doesn’t know she’s very studiously not looking but _something_ must happen because Stiles lets out this startled little moan and nope _nope_ nuh-uh.

She is not a voyeur.

“Keys are downstairs behind the desk. Everyone knows this.”

“I don’t know this,” she argues.

“Now you do. And you can leave.”

“Right. Right. You should get that lock installed though.”

“Goodbye Allison.”

“Bye.”

She turns and walks hurriedly out, thanking whatever deity that she doesn’t have werewolf hearing so one floor down she isn’t hearing any more moaning.

The moaning that started as soon as she closed the door back up behind her.

Those guys have a problem. She wonders if she should stage an intervention or something.

 

 

 **FOUR:** _It’s Just One Lock Left and a Sliding Door to the Right, Put Your Hands on Your Hips and Judge Their Lives, But It’s the Pelvic Thrust That Really Drives Them Insa-a-a-a-ne_

Let it go down on record that Lydia Martin did _not_ plan this.

So, maybe she had been a _little_ but curious about the all sex/relationship thing Stiles and Derek had been doing. Maybe she was a little curious about their dating.

So, _maybe_ , there might have been a chance she was curious about the man that stole the boy who had been in love with her for years away, which, truthfully she’s thankful for.

She loves Stiles like a brother, a best friend, a possible partner in crime.

If she needed to hide a body she’d call Stiles, but then again everyone would call Stiles to hide a body.

Still, their possible murder covering activities would be special. A them thing.

She doesn’t really spend much time _near_ Derek Hale. Not that she has anything _against_ him, but there was that time his uncle assaulted her and she _cannot_ be in the same room as that- _thing_.

It doesn’t actually take much time to conclude that Derek deserves Stiles obsessive brand of love.

Well, at least he does after Lydia is done intimidating him. It lasts about two hours and Derek just stands there, unshakable. That’s how she knows he’s worth it.

Plus, she’s pretty sure she found someone new to call if she ever needed to hide a body. Possibly, if she needed help doing some murdering, but she thinks she’ll call Stiles for that too. For how tough Derek looks he is a teddy bear really.

It’s adorable.

She’s getting off track.

What she wants to be acknowledged by all, is that however curious she was about their relationship she wasn’t quite _this_ brand of curious.

Meaning: Derek should really get a lock on the goddamn loft on the top floor. Or at least get his apartment done so they can fuck there instead of where the pack is supposed to hang out.

It happens because she’s forgets her purse in there.

And before you ask, _no_ this is certainly not a Freudian slip of any kind. It’s not that she subconsciously wanted to catch them having sex. Because that is not who she is. That is who Erica is.

(Okay, so maybe it’s exactly that. Maybe Lydia likes playing a little sexual tension game with Erica and _maybe_ because Erica had been complaining she had yet to catch them in the act, Lydia wanted to get the upper hand. _Maybe_. Hypothetically. She’s not admitting to anything.)

She slides the door open, tutting at the lack of lock and it’s not like she’s _expecting_ it to work.

She walks in, strides towards the armchair where she left her purse and lets her eyebrows raise until they’re flirting with her hairline.

Lydia Martin has made some miscalculations. She might have fallen for a certain type of stereotype that has the factuality of the situation surprise her and she doesn’t very much care for surprises.

Meaning she’s so used to seeing twinks getting buttfucked that she was _expecting_ for Stiles to be the one with a dick halfway up his ass.

 She idly wonders when Stiles gained that much muscle. She tilts her head appreciatively contemplating his back muscles working and the way he rolls his hips in a slow grind.

She shoulders her purse and slowly backs out of the room quietly.

If she’s anything, Lydia Martin is _perceptive_ and that kind of boning is the post- I love you’s kind of boning. It’s the slow kind of boning that involves gentle touches and intense staring and sheets barely grasped in fists and low almost soundless gasps.

So she heads out, slides the door back closed, wondering how they managed not to hear her come in.

Then she goes to the nice expensive bakery and stares nonplussed at the cash register girl until she goes place her order for the cake.

It’s butt shaped and has a little sugar card saying ‘Congrats for the dicking’.

Lydia Martin is nothing if not classy. And possibly spending too much time with Stiles.

 

 

 **FIVE:** _A Pessimist Resigns to a Life of Getting an Eyeful, an Optimist Hopes They’ll Never Have to Again and a Practical Person Just Installs the Goddamn Lock Already_

Boyd is tired.

It’s about the fourth time this week someone has complained about catching Stiles and Derek having sex, which means it’s about the fourth time this week he had to wrestle Erica down and prevent her from bursting into the loft.

He’s not a babysitter.

He does not have to put up with this kind of bullshit and he will smack a bitch if he gets accidentally scratched by Erica again while holding her down.

Everyone is complaining but no one is taking action.

Boyd decides to do it himself and just get it over with.

He climbs up to the loft when he knows Stiles and Derek are out and sets on installing a lock for the door. He knows Derek had bought one. Just got too distracted to install it.

It’s in times like this that he’s glad his father was adamant about teaching him how to be handy around the house.

Something crashes two floors down and he looks heavenward and prays for strength.

Half an hour. Was that really too much to ask. He just wanted half an hour to get the job done and get out.

He hears Stiles giggling and focuses on his work because he really _really_ isn’t in the mood to see any kind of genitalia.

Luckily, he finishes installing it just as they reach the sliding door.

Boyd snaps it open and stares them down, letting them know he is completely unimpressed with every single life choice they’ve ever made.

Especially Stiles’ choice to have both hands down the back of Derek’s pants.

“Not again,” Stiles groans, shoving his head under Derek’s chin.

“Boyd,” Derek acknowledges.

“Boss.”

He hands over the key.

“What’s this?”

“A key. For the lock I’ve installed. So you can bone in peace.”

Stiles snaps his head towards him in such a way that Boyd is actually concerned he dislocated something for a second.

“You actually angel,” he coos, turning his whole body to go for a hug and ohoh _no_.

Boyd swiftly steps aside pressing the key into Derek’s hands and starting down the hallway.

“No hug? Don’t you love me Boyd?” Stiles shouts after him.

“I tolerate you. And I know where those hands have been,” he deigns turning his head back to say.

Stiles nods a little, conceding the point.

“By the way, please don’t start having sex until I’m out of here. And _lock the door_.”

“Aye aye, keptin.”

Boyd rolls his eyes and decides that vaulting out of a window will increasing his chances of not hearing his Alpha moan like a two buck whore (he got that info from Isaac, don’t look at him like that.)

 

 

 **PLUS ONE:** _Life Lesson: Never Get Between a Girl and Her Gay DIckin’ Porn_

Stiles and Derek are both blushing. Well Stiles is sure he’s blushing, he’s also pretty sure Derek is blushing but Derek has elected to ignore the entire world and hide behind his hands, so he can’t be quite sure.

“And that wasn’t even the end of it,” Erica goes on, still pouting, “That was just the _first week_ Stiles was home from college. This has been going on for over six months and I still haven’t caught you having the sex.”

“We don’t do it on purpose,” Stiles stammers, “It’s not our fault no one ever knocks.”

“It’s your fault that you keep leaving all the doors open. Boyd actually backflipped out of a window when he caught you having sex for the fifth time. _After he installed the lock_.”

“Well,” he clears his throat, “in our defense we were having sex in our apartment. It’s not our fault everyone keeps barging in.”

Erica huffs and throws a pillow at him, “That’s not my point. My _point_ is that I want to see one of you dicking the other.”

“That’s-“

Derek makes a sound and slides down the couch.

“No. That’s weird.”

“Everyone’s done it,” she argues.

“Erica, honey,” he says slowly, kindly, “we are not having sex in front of you.”

Erica’s bottom lip starts wobbling.

Derek gets up and walks away.

“ _Please_. I always feel left out.”

Stiles _almost_ believes it. He’s been around long enough to know how shrewd and mix-y the girls are.

“Damnit,” he curses and gets up, stalks into the room searching for the thing.

Derek wordlessly passes it to him.

“We’re not talking about this. Ever,” he announces.

Derek nods along willingly and then jumps out of the window.

“Weak,” Stiles mutters, going back to the living room and passing the USB drive to Erica.

She picks it up carefully, tilts her head in question.

“We _may_ have been caught by a security camera in a compromising position,” he edges.

Erica looks down at the plastic thing like it’s the second coming of Jesus.

“If I see that _anywhere_ on the Internet.”

She tackles him down in a hug, “You won’t! I promise.”

He pats her, “Good.”

Erica rubs her cheek over his hair, “You _do_ love me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me up, I’m gonna throw out my back.”

“Am I your favorite? Am I _your favorite_?” she grins excitedly, sitting back on her heels.

“No.”

“Liar!” she accuses with glee.

Stiles grins at her and shoos her away, “Go be a pervert. I have to call my boyfriend back before he moves to Mexico in shame.”

Erica smooches his cheek and jumps up, running out the door like a manic Pokémon muttering about how she’s his favorite.

Stiles idly wonders why this is his life and why he puts up with it.

Five minutes later when Derek cautiously walks back, looking spooked and biting his bottom lip with his adorable little bunny teeth he remembers.

(Two hours later when he has an entire pack demanding why _they_ aren’t his favorite at his door he wonders if moving to Mexico with Derek is actually something they could do.)

**Author's Note:**

> [come tell me how much of a dork i am over at tumblr](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com)


End file.
